Stronger Than Weak
by Deaddumpster
Summary: The Archdemon is dead, but things are far from over. A new, extra-dimensional being threatens to destroy Thedas. One man must seek out and unite both the Warden and Hawke if he hopes to stop it. That is, if they can take him seriously. Eventual OC/Bethany


_I can't exactly say that this is my first fanfic ever. I had a couple several years back, but I was young and stupid then. I deleted them in disgust. Anywho, I am back and alive and all happy and unclothed and all that good shit._

_**Stronger Than Weak**_

**Prologue**

The time was late, midnight to be exact. The moon hung high in the sky over Redcliffe, and the man watched from the outskirts of the town. He owned no land there in a legal sense, but still managed to acquire several acres while the residents were busy rebuilding. He wasn't particularly close to the village itself, instead choosing to build his home a good distance away. Blight or no Blight, most Fereldens still did not exactly appreciate the Orlesian folks. He set up a farm when they were busy celebrating.

Change was quickly sweeping Thedas. The Archdemon had been slain, and the Warden who did the deed survived to tell the tale. The tyrant, Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir, had been personally executed by another Warden. This Warden took the throne, though was rather reluctant to do so. Regardless, Alistair Theirin proved to be a capable leader. He rebuilt the order of the Grey Wardens almost single-handedly, after his best-friend-turned-total-freeloading-douchebag took off after the witch.

The Orlesian man enjoyed the peace that his property brought. He enjoyed the evenings in his field, and most certainly enjoyed the stars overhead. "All of this beauty, just out of reach." He often thought aloud, a slightly irritated tinge to his voice every time. This night was a particularly quiet one. Celebrations were still on in Redcliffe, yet even though he could see the festivities from his land he couldn't hear a thing. It was as if a soundproof veil had blocked out the music and chatter.

It was much too quiet.

Music and party banter could go unheard if quiet enough, but there was no sound. No insects, no birds, not even wind. The man lifted himself up off the ground, and started to walk closer to the village. The second he set foot off of his property, life returned to him. Night sounded normal, no more deafening silence. Uneasy, he drew his knife. It was an old blade, but trusty and more than capable of ending lives. Taking a deep breath, he stepped back on to his property.

Once again the world fell silent, but this time much different. A deep feeling of dread overcame him. He had encountered demons before, and had been around places where the Veil was weak. This man was no farmer, but a retired mercenary. Yet, this feeling was on a whole other level.

"The damned Archdemon would soil it's bloody drawers if it was anywhere in here." The man said to himself. It was as if every bit of fear had been sapped from every being in Thedas and placed into this spot. Yet this man was too stubborn to withdraw from it. In fact, he felt _pulled _to it. It was his home, and he had no reason to fear it.

The man kept walking, from the end of his property right to the forest on the other side. As he stepped into the woods, the feeling just felt stronger.

"Show yourself, demon. I do not fear you!" The man called out, with pure aggressiveness in his voice. He left his fears behind.

"How dare you call me such a thing." There was a voice. No emotion in the voice, yet every emotion in the voice. It was as if every human in Thedas had spoken directly to him.

"If you had any gall you would show yourself, coward." It was pitch-black out, but the man didn't care.

"Oh but I am showing everything. You just cannot see what I have to show you. A primitive being such as yourself needs light, and I am more than happy to oblige you."

Daylight. Everywhere. The man looked at the being before him. It was less of a _being_, and more of a foggy void. It constantly took new shapes, new arms sprouting into tentacles and into swords and back into arms.

'_This is a demon?' _The man thought.

"No." The mercenary jumped when it spoke. He felt signals entering his brain, foreign signals. Welcome, yet completely unwelcome. It wasn't trying to take over his mind, but instead spoke to him. None of the language in his head made sense, none of it could be considered any documented language. That was when he realized it.

This being, or anti-being, was speaking to him in this language the whole time. By the time this language had gone through his ears and into his brain, it had translated itself into coherent speech.

"What _are _you? Who are you? Why are you? This Blight has been vanquished, yet it is before me one of the Old Gods stands?" The man spat in a thick Orlesian accent, his sense of fear finally catching up with him.

The void took shape, into a somewhat human form. It was bipedal, and very lanky. Legs took up most of its vertical height, with a short and withered torso teetering on top. Two arms, both with no definitive hands, dragged along the ground. Two more arms sprouted from the neck of the being, from one wrist stump came seven needle-like claws. From the other came a head, or at least it looked like the head. The eye sockets were turned inside-out, as if it looked into its own brain. Its eyes were dark purple globes barely hanging from the inverted sockets. The jaw was split down the middle, and hung uselessly in a rather gory mess. It had no nose, and no discernable ears.

It's voice boomed now, _now_ it was angry, "I AM WHY. WHY I AM. WHY AM I?" The eye-globes didn't _look _confused, they emitted the emotion in a raw form. "You speak as if the Blight is the only evil, as if divinity ends with your Maker and your Old Gods, as if the Fade is the only realm beyond here. Your Maker is dead. YOUR OLD GODS ARE DEAD!"

With its clawed arm, it stabbed the man in the stomach and hoisted him up effortlessly. The globes glowed red, and the man averted his gaze. Suddenly, he was just another extension of this being's body. Under his own control, he drove his blade into his throat and twisted. Gurgling, the former mercenary fell off of the being's claws and dissolved into a fine mist.

"And I am the one that killed them."

_I apologize if this chapter is a little short, or a tad ambiguous. 'Tis merely a prologue, and much will be revealed later on. Now review, or I will shit a mountain lion._


End file.
